


Obsidian Eye

by Sanctified_Jasper



Series: Coda of Thrones [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Corpse Desecration, DO NOT POST TO AN UNOFFICIAL APP, DO NOT POST TO ANOPTHER SITE, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 09:13:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18848032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanctified_Jasper/pseuds/Sanctified_Jasper
Summary: While on a walk late at night, waiting for the Wight army to arrive, Sansa visits the Crypts, and has a realisation.The dead aren't just coming, they're already there.





	Obsidian Eye

**Author's Note:**

> So this has probably been done already, but... yeah...

The dead were coming, like the inevitable return of Winter, the army of wights would descend upon Winterfell.

“Father,” Sansa said to Ned's tomb, “please watch over us.”

She turned to leave, to return to bed. It was far too late at night to be in the crypt, praying for the dead to be with them.

One foot on the stairs back to the keep, Sansa froze.

“The dead are with us,” she whispered, pulling her passing thought back into focus. She whirled to face the long tunnel, filled with the Starks of ages past. “The dead are already here,” she whispered horrified as the thought took hold.

Grabbing her skirts with one hand she raced up the steps, the torch's flame spluttering as she ran across the yards to find the men in charge of the obsidian weapons.

* * *

“Mi'lady,” one of the men binding arrow heads to the shafts greeted her, and Sansa tried to appear calm.

“Good evening,” she nodded to all the people present. “I apologise for bothering you all at this hour, but I wondered, are there any shards of dragon glass, any bits too small or fragile to be used as arrow heads?”

The men shared a look, and one of them nodded to a bucket half filled with tiny pieces of obsidian.

“There's those,” he said, unsure if they were what she was after.

“Good, would it also be alright if I took them? I had an idea I wanted to try, but I don't want to use any of the supplies which might still serve on the battlefield.”

“We've no use for them Mi'lady,” another man said, “if they can serve you, take them.”

“Thank you,” Sansa gave them her kindest smile and picked up the bucket.

Or, she _tried_ , the combined weight of the bucket and shards was more than she was expecting.

“Here,” one of the men said, leaving his seat to pick it up for her, “I'll carry it for you, just tell me where to put it.”

Sansa debated the value of telling the men.

Solemnly she said, “in the crypt.”

The assembled men stopped working, horror slow to creep into their features as the idea was slow to dawn.

“I don't know if it will help, or if it is something we even need to defend against, but they are my ancestors, I will take care of it.”

“I'll come too,” another man stood, walking to a nearby tool rack to fetch a length of oddly shaped steel, “you'll need help opening the tombs.”

“Thank you,” Sansa said, to the two who would go with her, and to the men who would stay to make the arrows.

* * *

As the newly formed trio returned to the crypts, Sansa realised she recognised one of the men, he'd been working on the armour as she'd walked past by so many days ago now. He'd been kind enough to explain that they hadn't forgotten the leather, they just hadn't reached the stage were it was applied.

He'd even given her a more detailed breakdown of how the processed worked, and she'd been pleased to find they'd been working at a faster rate than they'd estimated.

* * *

Sansa led the way into the Crypts, torch held high. She stopped by her father's grave first, taking a moment to pray for forgiveness for desecrating the graves and bodies of her ancestors.

She gave a nod, and the man with the bar moved forward, using the steel length to slide the heavy top open with ease.

When he stepped back, Sansa stepped up to the side, a shard of obsidian from the bucket in her hand.

She hesitated, then steeled herself, she was a Stark, her ancestors would understand, surely.

Resolution found, Sansa slid the shard into her father's eye socket.

“Please close it, we'll move on to the next.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also, the thing with armour, that's not how the scene went, but it could have, and maybe should have considering those men should have known what they were doing, and Sansa being the first to spot the 'mistake' was just a little pander-y. (I say this with the love of a member of Team Sansa.)  
> The 'oddly shaped length of steel' is a crowbar by the way.


End file.
